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Karl's Deepest Secret, Part 5
by Greg Scott


All the usual stuff about you must be old enough in your jurisdiction, etc.  In other words, if you are underage, don't read this unless you have a really cool teacher who assigned it.  Otherwise, come back in a few years, when nobody will yell at you.

This is the twenty-third story in the series, The Lavender Line.


At some point during the night, I woke up to discover that David had apparently awakened and turned off the lights.  I quickly went back to sleep with my arm draped over my lover and former teacher.

My next conscious realization was that someone was banging on our door and calling out, "Room service."

As glanced at the clock, reading 9:00 exactly, as David catapulted out of bed.  He practically ran to the closet, calling out "Just a minute," and he slipped on a hotel supplied robe.

Instead of heading to the door as I expected, he went instead to the spare bed.  He ripped back the covers, ran his hands roughly across the sheets and pounded one of the unused pillows.  I was confused in my still groggy state, although I slowly began to realize his motivation.

"You might want to close your robe," I said to him, just as he reached the door.

He turned to me grinning, showing off his masculine chest and dangling cock and balls.  He pulled the robe closed, tied the belt and pointlessly ran his hands through his disarrayed hair before opening the door.

As the young room service attendant pushed the cart into the room, he stared at me still in the bed covered only by a sheet.  At that moment I realized that I was on my back displaying a proud tent with my morning hard-on serving as the center post.  Rather than rolling over to hide it, I flexed my stiff dick, which flapped the sheet several times.

Watching the display out of my lover's view, the guy who was probably a student at the university flashed a grin at me and winked.  I returned his grin without the accompanying wink as I pointedly examined his trim, uniformed body from top to bottom.

After David signed the tab, the lad said, "Thank you, sir.  I hope you both have a great day."  Then he flashed another wink in my direction.

As soon as the door was closed, I said, "You're not acting very much like the out and proud man that you claim to be."

"What are you talking about?" David replied, obviously confused.

"Why did you mess up the unused bed?" I answered his question with one of my own.

"Oh, I see," he said.  "Well, there's no point making people uncomfortable.  Besides I'm not much for public displays of affection."

"This is our room.  If somebody gets uncomfortable, then that's their problem, not yours."

"Maybe," he admitted.

"Besides, do you really think you fooled that guy?" I pressed on.

"Let's just eat our breakfast before it gets cold," he offered, ignoring my question.  "Besides, I've got to get moving.  I hadn't planned sleeping this late."

"It won't hurt Damian if you're a little late."

We ate our enormous breakfasts in silence.  I think that David was feeling defensive about his closeted behavior, and I suspect that he knew that I was offended by his actions on this first morning of a weekend during which we supposedly had no need to hide our relationship.

After his shower, David dressed in the exact same outfit that he had chosen for our first date on my birthday.  David had told me that he and Damian had enjoyed a romantic and sexual relationship during their last two years in college.  I was fairly sure that they had had sex since then on those periodic occasions that they saw each other, three or four times a year.  I was sure that today would be no different and that was fine with me.

Still, I felt that it was insensitive of David to wear that outfit that I had come to give a special meaning.  His clothing choice did nothing to sweeten my mood that had already been soured by his actions of making the second bed appear that it had been slept in.

I lounged around the room trying to find something interesting on television for about an hour after David left.  At eleven o'clock I figured that it was late enough to call Greg, my new friend and a freshman at the large university here.

There was really no rush, because I wasn't supposed to show up at my brother Kevin's apartment until about 2:00.  He had hosted a party the previous night and thought that he'd probably want to sleep late.  

Greg answered the phone on the first ring with "Hi, Karl."

After the required social niceties, I said, "I'm going to hang out with my brother and some of his friends this afternoon.  Can you come along?"

"Yep," he replied.  "I was planning on it, even if you didn't ask."

I could hear his grin in his voice, and my mood instantly started to improve.

Greg was going to meet me at the hotel at noon, so I started to get ready as soon as the call ended.  I thought about straightening the room, but then I thought, "Fuck it."

As soon as I opened the door Greg greeted me with a kiss on the cheek.

"Nice room," he said looking around.  "But why are both beds used?"

I told him about David's performance this morning, my reaction to it and even my little secret flirtation with the room service guy.  Greg seemed to think it was all pretty funny.

We decided to kill some time at a coffee shop in the campus neighborhood before going to Kevin's.  As we were walking from the parking space to the coffee shop, Greg grasped my hand gently.  It felt wonderful to me, although I knew it was nothing more than a friendly gesture on his part.  But my spirit soared with the openness of the act.

We entered the busy establishment.  Have you noticed how, if you're in a very noisy room and somebody whispers your name, you immediately hear it and turn to the direction from which it came?  That's what happened to me as soon as we walked in, only it was my eyes and not my ears that were immediately drawn to a table in the far corner of the room.  

There sat David with his hand placed tenderly on that of his companion, whom I immediately recognized as Damien from David's mantel photograph of the college friends on Spring Break.  I don't call what I felt jealousy, but it was definitely bitterness seeing my lover who had just demeaned public displays of affection a few hours before intimately touching and leaning in toward his extremely sexy companion.

While I was still processing the sight, David glanced in my direction, made eye contact, immediately broke it, removed his hand from Damien's and never again looked in my direction.  In the meantime, Greg told me to choose a table and that he'd be back with our coffees.

Naturally, the table I selected was as far from David's as I could find.  I settled in while trying to decipher my emotions.  I didn't care that David had been holding Damien's hand.  What I did care about, though, was the realization that if I had been at that coffee shop with David, he would not have reached for my hand.

David, I had learned, was not at all ashamed to be identified in public by strangers as a gay man.  He was ashamed of me.  I supposed that it was the age difference between us that triggered his guilt, but it might have simply been because I was a student at the same school at which he taught.

Greg returned carrying two cups.  He brought me a cappucinno and had chosen some sort of mocha for himself.

"I think your lover is here," he announced.  "If not, it's somebody who looks a lot like him."

I was momentarily confused, unable to remember how Greg could recognize David.  Then I recalled how Greg and I had met.  Obviously Greg had spent some time in the men's room admiring David before and during the time that the older man had sucked David off.

"Yeah, it's him," I said, trying to sound unaffected.

About that time, David and Damien stood and put on their jackets to leave.  On the way out, David seemed to look in any direction except the one where Greg and I were seated.  After they left, I was surprised to realize that I felt instantly better and more upbeat.

Nearly two hours later, two hours that had flown by like minutes, two hours during which Greg and I told each other about our lives past and present, I knocked on Kevin's apartment door.  Kevin opened it quickly and engulfed me in his powerful hug.

"Welcome little brother," he laughed.  He had started calling me little brother to tease me when I was about eleven to specifically refer to my then small penis compared to his much larger one.  He still teased in that way, although we both knew that I probably now equaled him or more in that regard.  

"Kevin, this is Greg," I said, unnecessarily nodding in the direction of my friend.

"Hi, Greg.  Nice to meet you," Kevin said, sticking out his hand for one of his crunching hand shakes.  "Where are you guys staying?"

"Oh, Greg is a student here, too.  He lives in an apartment," I corrected my obviously confused brother.

"I thought you and your boyfriend were both driving in from the old hometown."

"That's right," I replied.  "Greg and I are friends.  My boyfriend is off visiting one of his friends who lives here."

"Oh, I see," said Kevin sounding very much like he was even more confused now that I had explained.  "How about I just stop asking questions?"

We went bowling with Kevin, his new girlfriend and four other friends of Kevin's.  All together we were two straight couples, one gay couple and two gay friends.  I liked them all very much, especially Kevin's new girlfriend, Kelly.  With such a large group, we had plenty of time to talk before our turn to bowl came around again.  I spent most of the time conversing with Kelly and Greg.  It seemed that Greg and I never ran out of things to talk about.

Greg and I had not eaten lunch, so we grabbed a couple of hot dogs from the snack bar.  I managed to drip mustard, a huge glob of it, on my new shirt.  I mentioned that I would have to change before the evening activities.  Greg said that he could easily drive me back to the hotel at any time for a clean shirt.

We all agreed on the evening plans before we left the bowling alley.  They were all heading back to Kevin's, where we would order pizza, play some game and then head out to a movie that I had never heard of.  Once the plans were settled, Greg and I left for the hotel and my clean shirt.

As Greg and I were about to enter the main doors of the hotel, the room service guy from that morning was leaving, apparently getting off work.

"Hi," I said as soon as I saw him.  I again gave his body a quick head to toe assessment.

"Hello room four-eighteen," he replied as he pointedly surveyed my own body.  Then he continued, "Hi, Greg."

"How's it going Jeremy?" said Greg.

"See you around, Greg" said the hotel employee.  "Have fun."

In the lobby I said to Greg, "Do you know him?"  I realized it was a stupid question with an obvious answer.

"We had a couple dates," he said.  "He's a little too wild for me."

I wondered what sorts of activities Greg would consider too wild, but I decided not to ask.  I think that I already knew that I wanted to figure out the answer to that question on my own.

In the room, I chose a fresh shirt and tossed it onto the extra bed while I removed my dirty apparel.  Greg didn't try to hide his enjoyment of my movements to remove my shirt, exposing first my stomach and finally my chest.

"Are you starting to sprout some hair on your chest?" Greg asked squinting and moving slowly closer.

I knew that Greg must be imagining things, because I had absolutely no hair on my chest and, based upon my genes, probably never would have.

"I think you're seeing things," I said.

"No, I'm sure I see something," he said.  "Here, let me check."

With that he lightly brushed my chest with his hands, then applied more pressure and began to massage my pecs.  I smiled at his successful ruse.  He leaned in to begin the kiss.

As quickly as he had made his welcome move, we were wrestling naked on the spare bed.  For a while it took on the characteristics of a genuine match.  His moves were practiced and expert, and he soon had me in a hold from which I knew I could not escape.

"You've wrestled before," I stated.

"Guilty as charged," he admitted.  "Four years in high school.  When I started, I didn't realize what good practice it would be for situations like these."

"To the victor go the spoils," I said.

"I was going to claim them win or lose," he said grinning.

Our wrestling moves had left us very close to the sixty-nine position.  Being practical young men, we took advantage of the position and began what any good gay boys would do under the circumstances.

Our mouths worked each other with less urgency than two weeks prior, when there was the possibility of interruption.  I noticed how expertly he applied pressure at the right times and used his tongue to magnify the sensations that I felt.  I also recognized what I had during our roadside encounter: that his cock felt as if it had been made for my mouth...or vice versa.

All the confusion, anger and recognition of the inevitable that I had felt about David earlier in the day was as far from my consciousness as was any incident from my days in the womb.  My focus was entirely upon Greg.

I found that I loved his scent, his touch, his mouth and his perfect, although far from massive, cock.  Oddly it was thinking those thoughts, not particularly sexual thoughts that triggered my intense orgasm.  

Of all of the orgasms that I had had up to that time, this particular one was the most associated with conscious thought.  While typically when I cum I become lost in the sensations, this time I became more aware of what I was doing and what Greg was doing.  Thus I was completely aware of Greg's nearly simultaneous explosion, which began an instant after my first ejaculation.

When we had both finished, there was no cum left in either of our mouths.  We had both managed to swallow everything despite have cocks lodged in each others' respective mouths.  

We didn't turn around to kiss, as would have been my normal behavior.  Instead, I led Greg by the hand into the bathroom and turned on the shower.  We stepped in together.  Only then did we begin our post-orgasmic kiss, which continued without break while we soaped and massaged each other.

"Your brother's going to get suspicious about our delay," Greg said.

"He won't ask any more questions," I said laughing.

"I know I shouldn't say this," Greg said just above a whisper.  "I could learn to love you very easily."

I didn't respond.

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